


Ultimate Remedy

by Sky_Lynx



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Herbs Are Tricky, Humor, M/M, Non-Consensual Cuddling, Pre-Slash, Translation into English
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sky_Lynx/pseuds/Sky_Lynx
Summary: ‘When The Lion is in a rage it is incredibly hard to stop him. For such occasions I prepared a special remedy. Handle it with caution and do not use it unless it is absolutely necessary. You will find several bottles if you open an…’
Relationships: Corswain (WH40K)/Lion El'Jonson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Ultimate Remedy

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Последнее средство / Ultimate Remedy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024816) by [Sky_Lynx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sky_Lynx/pseuds/Sky_Lynx). 



> Many thanks to **AlexFlex** for beta-reading!

_‘And lastly,’_ read Corswain, turning the page of a small notebook. ‘To my successor’ - three words written in clear, neat handwriting. 

Guidance provided by Luther would be invaluable, regardless of the reasons for this honourable warrior's return to Caliban. Thanks to the instructions in the notebook, the armoury specialists had found a way to make the primarch's armour gleam. Now that he was so pleased with the shining appearance of his armour, he stopped complaining so much; about the bad food; about how battle-reports were structured. Now everyone could breathe more easily in Atrium - after the notebook written by Luther, who was now so far away, had explained where the buttons for the ventilation system were hidden.

_‘When The Lion is in a rage it is incredibly hard to stop him. For such occasions I prepared a special remedy. Handle it with caution and do not use it unless it is absolutely necessary. You will find several bottles if you open an…’_

The tiny vials were found exactly in the place Luther had described. Corswain brought one of them close to his face and gently shook it. 

The tiny vials were found exactly in the place Luther had described. Corswain brought one of them close to his face and gently shook it. A liquid. Reddish-brown, with a barely visible residue. Perfect. But what should he do with it? Put it in food?; mix it into a beverage?; sprinkle some onto The Lion?; splash some onto the one who enraged him?

Corswain checked the notebook for an answer.

Luther - mysteriously - remained silent.

The liquid had a sharp smell of something herbal, Corswain learned when he opened the vial.

And it did not seem toxic. After some hesitation, Corswain splashed a drop onto his palm and rubbed between his fingers. Tincture or medicine. But why should The Lion have a need for medicine? The Primarchs cannot fall ill, can they…?

"Cor." It was the voice of The Lion who appeared in the room with a chipper step and it distracted Corswain from a further analysis. 

"The transcript of the planetary transmission is ready. Look through it as soon as possible. I assume it was sent by a human civilization. What is this smell - ?"

"Trying to figure that out, my lord," honestly replied Corswain raising his hands. "But it isn’t dangerous."

The Lion loudly breathed in and all of a sudden broke into a wide smile. Corswain didn’t get a chance to ask him what made his lord so exhilarated. The Lion touched his arm, took his hand - one that was holding a vial just a moment ago - and pressed his cheek up to it.

By the grace of all forbidden Caliban gods.

Corswain made a cautious attempt to pull his hand back toward himself, but to no avail. The Lion had a tenacious hold on his palm. And pressed his forehead against the palm to make sure it couldn’t escape.

_‘This is bad,’_ thought Corswain as he took a shocked look at dilated pupils of The Lion. Primarch’s eyes were glowing with happiness and he was even humming something in a soft voice.

This was certainly bad and certainly very psychotropic.

Corswain knew he should think about a way to resolve the situation, but a quick warm breath was persistently tickling his palm. And ignoring it… or, saying more precisely, ignoring a four-meter primarch who was very interested in his hand was definitely not possible.

_‘I must do something about it,’_ thought Corswain, his neck already wet and legs weak.

_‘The Lion, I ardently admire and love you but we need to get to know each other better, don’t we?’_

_‘Luther left the psychotropic remedy. I swear I had no idea of its effect! Please grant me forgiveness for the sake of all evergreen forests of Caliban!’_ it was his second thought - and it also couldn’t help.

_‘Stop it, you’ll slap me for that after you regain consciousness.’_

_‘At least I didn’t go along with my idea of drinking it.’_

The Lion softly purred like a giant Caliban cat over a mutilated body of an unfortunate knight. Caught off guard Corswain bumped into a table.

Something cracked nearby. Corswain squinted and saw that the vial which had started all this had tipped over. Its contents spilled over the transcript. His hand suddenly became free - The Lion leaped onto the paper in a single. graceful bound. 

***  
Corswain suddenly found himself in a corridor. His reflexes allowed his hands to enter the locking code without having to think. The ability to think returned to him later - after he walked a few hundred meters down the corridor and bumped into someone tall and red-haired.

“Are you alright?” Holguin raised his eyebrows. “If you'll take my advice, you’ll delegate the handling of information to someone else. And please don’t mess around with these herbs. They do not have an effect on space marines in any case, due to our genetic modifications.”

“I’m absolutely, I’m perfectly all right,” Corswain feebly assured him.

_‘Have absolutely no effect. None at all’_

“Wait. What herbs are you talking about?”

Holguin took a deep sniff.

“You don’t have to confess it, Cor, but I clearly smell the hundred-paws. They call it Valeriána Officinális in High Gothic. I still remember its scent. My deceased relative used to keep it in her house.”

“I see,” nodded Corswain pretending he hadn’t just learnt something unexpected. “I was sorting the papers of Lu… the previous seneschal. That smell came from papers. Not from anything else.”

Holguin shook his head but - fortunately - didn’t ask further questions. Corswain hoped - sincerely hoped - that the red-haired fan of floristics would forget this conversation and hoped that he wouldn’t ask The Lion the same questions.

Corswain recalled the damn plant. He certainly knew it: he had seen its tiny flowers on dark forest edges many times. But he hadn’t known at least two things. Firstly, why did the hundred-paws have an effect not only on felines but on The Lion himself? And secondly, how much of it would The Lion remember after the effects had worn off? 

Fortunately, The Lion could not remember anything. He gave Corswain a lecture for the mess in the office and for the lost transcript - Corswain wasn’t able to find even a single page of the transcript. Corswain wasn’t very happy about the lecture but he supposed it was better than any other possible outcome.

_‘Go to a forest and get lost there forever, sar Luther,’ thought Corswain later. His expression was grim as he was throwing the vials into the waste disposal unit. ‘And if you don’t I’ll douse you from head to toe with your potion when I return to Caliban.’_

Corswain probably had too vivid and quick an imagination, and it immediately showed him a picture of what could happen next if he were to do that.

Corswain coughed and blushed.

_‘No,’_ he decided, rubbing his red cheeks. _‘When I return to Caliban I’ll ask Redloss to lend me some phosphex to burn the remainder of the herbs. We have had enough of your ‘ultimate remedies’ Luther.’_

**Author's Note:**

> Leave comments and kudos if you liked it! ❤️


End file.
